Staring defiant

into the blind eye of fate

the winds of circumstance

early not late


Staring back angry

its other eye blinked

as clouds blew misfortune

too close to the brink


I reached for my inkwell

I dipped in my pen

my final last script

to enoble the end


With one word I started

whose epistle came fast

to carry me onward

—goodbye was my last


(The New Room: May, 2022)




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